


Apologies

by Sarahtoo



Series: Coded Expressions [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Flashfic Challenge June 2018, Prompt Fic, mentions of OCs - Freeform, newly Phracking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: A new scene somewhere in my Coded Expressions world, where Phryne and Jack are in Hermannsburg and worrying about Ned. (If you haven’t read Coded Expressions, that’s OK—I tried to keep this spoiler-free—but it might make more sense if you do read that. You know, if you want. :P )For the prompts: Outback, directions, dialogue: “I’m so sorry”





	Apologies

The moonlit night was cool, the brutal heat of the daytime dropping to what, by comparison, felt like an arctic chill. Jack stood on a small hill overlooking the town of Hermannsburg, his arms crossed over his chest, but his anger—so molten just an hour ago—cooling along with the night.

He hadn’t planned to come this far. He knew that his skills in the Outback were passable at best, but he hadn’t really been thinking when he’d stormed off. He closed his eyes against the clear night, focusing on the noises—the shiver of eucalypt leaves, the call of night birds in the distance, the rustling in the undergrowth of some larger animal. His heart thudded solidly in his chest, his pulse slowing as his temper did. Finally, he could think clearly.

Phryne hadn’t meant what she said the way it’d sounded, he was sure. He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken it so badly. She was right, after all—Ned was not the man he’d been before, and there was no denying that. It was only that Jack wanted so much for his friend to have happiness—as much happiness as Jack himself had found with his honorable miss—and her words had sounded so absolute.

“He’ll never be the same man, Jack,” she’d said, her voice calm. “He’s had to learn to be someone else, and now it’s who he is.” 

He’d been standing with his back to her, under the wide branches of the ancient tree that stood proudly outside Mrs. Manning’s home, thinking through the dinner they’d just had with Ned and Jack’s other friend, Simon. Ned had been skittish in a way that he’d never been before, and it hurt Jack deep inside to know that his friend had been damaged so badly. Phryne’s words had just confirmed his own worry. 

“I know that you loved him,” she’d gone on, her small hand touching his back, not pressuring him to turn, “and Simon did too. But you will need to relearn him now.”

“Thank you for your insight, Miss Fisher,” he’d ground out, stepping away from the comfort of her touch. “I am certain that, as with everything you do, your knowledge of men’s post-war psychosis is completely accurate. You’ll forgive me if I don’t thank you for it, though.”

“Jack, I…” her voice had trailed off when he’d walked away, his fury—and he could admit it now, his pain—so deep that he couldn’t be with her, with anyone, just then.

Now, hours later, he opened his eyes to watch the moon rise in the sky and hoped that she’d forgive him. He hadn’t had an outburst like that one since he’d lived with Rosie; something about a woman’s attempt to be tender in the face of his memories of the war brought out the worst in him. The difference, though, was that Rosie hadn’t been in the war; she didn’t understand the kind of hell it had been, so all of her tender touches and assurances that he’d be all right had rung hollow.

Phryne’s didn’t. They never had, because she knew whereof she spoke. She’d seen the wounded, the dying, seen the killing fields that haunted him. She’d seen men who’d gone through the same trauma as Ned—and some of those men had never really come back from the war.

Propping his hands on his hips, Jack let his head fall forward. He sighed heavily. “I’m an idiot,” he said out loud to a goanna that peeked its head out of a hole nearby. The goanna blinked at him and ducked away. “Such an idiot.”

“Well, I hardly think I’ll argue with that.” 

The voice behind him was light, its tone lilting in the same way that their banter usually did, but it carried a tentative note that he didn’t like. He turned to look at her; she stood perhaps ten feet away, her tall boots and canvas skirt a practical foil for the gauzy blouse that he knew she wore beneath her wrapped shawl. She was so beautiful, it hurt his heart, but this was a good hurt, a healing hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” they spoke at the same time, broke off together, and smiled.

Jack strode to her, stopping only when he was inches away—his preferred distance. He raised his hands to her arms, the wool of her shawl soft against his palms. Searching her eyes, he said it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said quietly, closing the distance between them by the simple expedient of leaning forward, her body a soft weight against his. She laid her hands on his chest, holding his gaze. “I’m sorry as well.” She grimaced a little. “I overstepped.”

“No,” he shook his head, his arms wrapping around her to hold her close. “You only said what I already knew. I just… didn’t want to admit it.”

“It’s understandable. He was your friend, and he will be again.” Her hands slid up to link around his neck, her fingers stroking the short, soft hairs on the back of his head. “I think he wants to be your friend again, if that helps.”

“It does, actually.” With a sigh, Jack ducked his head to press his cheek to hers, breathing deeply. She always smelled so good; some people might find the scent of bread or flowers evoked the sensation of _home_ , but for him, now, it was French perfume. He thought it might always be that way.

They stood, twined together, for long minutes, quietly breathing each other in. Eventually, Phryne stirred in his arms.

“Jack,” she said quietly, “let’s go home, hm?”

He nodded, lifting his head to brush a kiss against her lips. Phryne kissed him back—it was still such a miraculous thing, that she wanted to kiss him, love him—and it wasn’t long before their kiss deepened into something more urgent.

Pulling back, Phryne smiled up at him, sliding one hand around to cup his jaw. “I definitely want to continue this, but not out here.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Wildlife.”

Jack’s smile stretched muscles he hadn’t realized were stiff from frowning, and he nodded, pressing another kiss to her forehead before he turned them back toward their temporary home. He kept an arm around her shoulders, and Phryne slid her own around his waist, their hips bumping together companionably as they walked.

“I didn’t realize how far I’d gone,” Jack said.

“Yes, it was terribly inconvenient. I had to ask _directions_ , Jack,” Phryne’s irritation was mostly for show, but he knew that it irked her to not know the answers.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Then I’m sorry again, love,” he murmured. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“See that you do,” she said. “I have some suggestions.” 

Her eyes laughed up into his, and Jack felt that pain in his heart once more, only it was more like a stretching of unused muscles than a real hurt. Perhaps, given time, he’d get used to the feelings she engendered in him, though he hoped not. He never wanted to take her for granted.

“Do you? Well, we have a ways to go.” He looked down at her, watched her eyebrows rise. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Her answer—her first answer, anyway—was a delighted grin.

**********

Just over an hour later, they lay naked together in the bed they shared in their rented room, their skin slick with sweat and their hearts racing. Phryne’s “suggestions” had been explicit, and Jack could still taste her on his tongue, smell her on his fingers, and feel her wet heat around his cock. 

“You,” he gasped, “are brilliant.” He stroked his hands up her back where she’d collapsed against him, knees on either side of his hips.

“I have had quite some time to think about what I’d do with you, given the chance,” she admitted, her own breathing uneven against the skin of his neck. 

“Well, I am happy to be of service however I can,” he admitted.

“And anyway, what use is it to argue if you can’t have makeup sex afterward?” 

Jack’s chest shook with silent laughter, his hands moving down to cup her bottom. “An excellent point.” He squeezed the soft globes gently and was rewarded with a squeeze of her internal muscles around his cock where it lay quiescent within her.

“Mmm.” The sound was soft, satisfied, but he felt the brush of first her lips and then her tongue against his throat. Then another squeeze of those muscles had him hardening again.

“What are you doing, Miss Fisher?” He stroked her again, one hand moving up her back and around to cup her breast, its nipple hard against his thumb, the other grasping her thigh and pulling her close as he arched his hips into hers.

“I can tell that you’re really, _really_ sorry for yelling at me earlier, Jack,” she said, trailing her tongue across his shoulder, her hands moving on his chest. “I’m giving you the opportunity to make it up to me.”

“So generous,” he said, tilting his head to give her better access to his neck, a low groan escaping him when she traced his ear with her tongue. 

“Hmmm,” she replied, and bit lightly on his earlobe.

With a soft curse, he rolled with her, his fully recovered erection pushing deep inside her as he turned his head to capture her mouth with his. This time, their loving was slow and deep, their earlier “apologies” having taken care of their urgency. Phryne’s nails scraped at Jack’s back as he stroked slowly into her; he paused regularly to bend and take her nipples into his mouth, never fully withdrawing from her body. His fingers played with her breasts and slid down to her clit while he kissed her, long, drugging kisses that carried her higher and higher with each stroke of his tongue.

When they came, it was nearly an hour later, the moonlight streaking the bed and their bodies through the thin curtains. Phryne’s orgasm was a quiet thing, but no less powerful because of it, her body shuddering and clenching around his. Her name a hoarse cry on his lips, Jack let himself go along with her, his release flooding her body, her legs wrapped warmly around him.

This time, as their breathing steadied, he moved away, just far enough to roll to his back and pull her against him. Phryne’s sigh turned into a yawn, and she nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder—a place that seemed made for her—and laid a hand on his chest. 

“Apology accepted,” she murmured.

Jack laughed softly, his arms tightening around her as he pulled the sheet over them. This marvelous woman had brought him back to life. He hoped that Ned would find someone who’d do that for him someday. Until then, Jack would be his friend.

“Good night, Miss Fisher,” he whispered, and he knew that the way he said her name meant “my love”—if she didn’t realize it already, which he was almost certain she did, she would soon. He would make sure of it. 

With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, ready to sleep with the whole world in his arms.


End file.
